There is beauty in the craziness tangled desire.
There is beauty in the sounds of alarms.
In the sound of the prescription bottle twisting open four times a day.
In the sound of the swallow.
In the sound of neon lights flickering some consumerist product.

There is beauty of her exposed chest.
There is beauty in wanting to hear her satisfied.
There is beauty in the sight of the cracked mirror and the blanketing your knuckles.
In the sight of your watered glossed rugged eyes.
In the sight of your scar from loosing your mind on the sidewalk.
In the sight of the stitches mending your black smudged wrists.
In the sight of the dawn and her guilty eyes looking into yours.
The thrill of desire is subconscious.